


The Morning After

by smidget25



Category: The Hobbit RPF
Genre: Fluff, I'm so sorry, M/M, RPF, Richlee - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-04 09:28:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3062675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smidget25/pseuds/smidget25
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A very awkward morning after the night before on the Hobbit set.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Morning After

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve never ventured into RPF before, and have tried very hard not to, but Richard/Lee make such a lovely (and super attractive) couple – if they are actually together.
> 
> Obviously I’ve completely made this up and mean no offence to either actor!

He stumbles into the make-up trailer far later than he intended.

On a normal day, he gets up early – even earlier than his make-up call – to have a long, hot shower and several cups of tea. Today, he barely stepped under the spray, before towelling himself off (badly) and throwing on the nearest set of clothes he could find. His hair is still damp, he’s fairly sure he’s got his sweater on back to front, and that he’s wearing Lee’s old underwear. If he wasn’t so tired, he might feel more embarrassed about it. 

He had to forgo the tea entirely, his greatest mistake; he feels slow and sluggish, dreaming of burrowing himself back in his duvet and curling up around a long, warm body.

He’d left Lee to sleep on, face down in his bed and gloriously naked.  He’d shifted into Richard’s side during the night, arms splayed wide, and when Richard had awoken, he found himself breathing into a mess of soft hair. It had taken several long minutes to extract himself - not wishing to wake Lee at such a godforsaken hour, not when he wasn’t filming until later that afternoon. He hadn’t so much as stirred when Richard clambered, rather ungracefully, into the shower, or when he’d tried to pull on his jeans upon still wet legs.

He was probably still there, sprawled upon his bed, a sight that would be ingrained in Richard’s mind forever. If it wasn’t for the pleasant aching of limbs, the obvious lack of sleep, and indents of Lee’s teeth, he might think it was just a very enjoyable dream. He’d certainly had enough of them over the last few months.

“Cutting it close, aren’t we?” greets Tami, the make-up artist, when he finally staggers into the trailer, trying to look composed, rather than like he just ran across the car park from his trailer to this one. He thinks his heavy breathing might be giving him away.

He makes to glance at his watch, only to realise he’s left it on the bedside table.

“I’m sorry,” he says, automatically – or at least, he tries to. It’s more of a croak than actual words. He clears his throat, tries again. “I overslept.”

Tami is staring at him now, and he tries not to shift uncomfortably. “That’s unlike you.”

He shrugs, going for casual but only achieving evasive. He seats himself on the make-up trailer, to hopefully end the questioning, and grimaces when he looks in the mirror. He looks tired, nothing new there, and pale – only now there are red marks marring the whiteness of his neck.

Tami is staring at them. 

He opens his mouth, to form some sort of excuse, but his mind is utterly blank – his brain has deserted him. He knew skipping the tea this morning was a bad idea.

“Umm…” he attempts, watching his own face redden in the mirror. Even his ears are flushed.

Tami watches him squirm for several long moments, before letting out a bark of a laugh. Her eyes are gleaming playfully when she asks, “You and Lee are going well then?”

Richard makes to protest, upon principle, because his private life is private and this is not somewhere he wants people to pry. But upon meeting her knowing gaze, he sighs, muttering in defeat, “How do you know?”

Tami rolls her eyes, as though the answer is obvious. “Everyone is talking about your endless flirting,” she explains, with a smirk. “We were all getting fed up of watching him pining. I’m glad you finally put the poor man out of his misery.”

Lee had never seemed particularly miserable to him, but he had called Richard 'utterly oblivious' before kissing him, so maybe he isn't the best judge. 

+++

After the utter humiliation of make-up, Richard is glad to get to finally get to filming. The sun has risen, he’s had at least five cups of tea, and his body and mind are beginning to awaken.

They’re filming fight scenes today, between the dwarves and seemingly endless amounts of orcs, and although he’s tender is strange places, he enjoys the stretch and burn that comes with the fights. He enjoys the challenge of being pushed to the absolute limit.

The prosthetics cover any trace of the previous night, to which he is glad – he doesn’t think he will be able to endure his fellow dwarves endless teasing. Now that he’s in costume, he’s Thorin again, and everything else melts away.

In fact, he’s so involved with filming, he doesn’t think about Lee again, until they break for lunch. Having thoroughly trounced Graham in a practise fight with a plastic axe, he slinks over to collect his things, and takes a quick glance at his phone.

Surprisingly – or not so surprisingly, he isn’t sure – he finds three messages blinking back at him. All from ‘Lee Pace.’

His heart is doing strange things in his chest as he reads them.

 

_Hey! How’s Thorin’s fight for survival going? Missed you this morning J_

_Sent 10:17_

 

_I’ve borrowed some of your clothes, I hope you don’t mind! I couldn’t find mine._

_Sent 10:38_

 

_If you’re free, do you want to go see a film tonight? I’ll let you pick! ;)_

_Sent 11:45_

 

Richard blinks down at his phone confusedly for a minute, trying to digest the words. He types out a response to each text, and stares at the strange bleed of words before deleting them. He sighs in exasperation for overthinking something so very simple, and replies, before he can confuse himself further:

 

_You’re filming this afternoon, right? Want to meet for lunch?_

_Delivered 12:29_

 

His phone vibrates a second later and makes him jump.

 

_I’d like that!! See you in the canteen xxx_

_Sent 12:29_

 

Wondering what he’d ever done to warrant such enthusiasm, he beckons to Graham, and make their way to lunch, joining the table already packed with dwarves. Everyone’s talking, and laughing, and so Richard doesn’t notice Graham’s stare until he’s already tucking into his food.

“What’s with you today?” his friend asks, clearly suspicious.

Richard shrugs, and shovels a potato into his mouth, mumbling, through mouthfuls, “Oh, nothing. Just tired.”

“Not tired. You look relaxed – dare I say it, happy.”

Richard is spared from replying by another arrival at the table. He can feel, before he sees, Lee coming up behind him – his tall frame towering above them and casting a long shadow across their plates. Richard does not turn, and waits until Lee seats himself beside him, swinging his long legs beneath the table and greeting them all with a blinding smile. Richard chokes slightly on his asparagus, and tries to calm his stuttering heart.

“Hi,” Lee says, cheeks dimpling – and the expression looks strange upon the face of the Elvenking. He’s already wearing the elven wig and ears, the long silvery hair a waterfall to his waist; it’s a stark change to the dark disarray his hair had been the last time Richard had seen him, and he finds he cannot remove that thought from his mind.

“Hi,” Richard croaks back, while trying determinedly not to look at him.

It’s difficult when Lee is pressed against his side, rather closer than he has to be. Suddenly he’s having flashbacks, of sweat-slick skin and lustful moans, of the curve of Lee’s back and the brightness of his eyes in the darkness. He remembers hard muscle, soft skin, and unbearable tightness and heat…

Seemingly reading his mind, Lee nudges him slightly and flashes him a smile – a softer one, more intimate. It’s a small, sweet thing, and Richard cannot help but return it.

He notices then what Lee is wearing – although he has completed hair and mark-up, he’s still in everyday clothes: tight, black jeans and a very familiar pleated shirt. 

“Isn’t that Rich’s shirt?” asks Adam, curiously, before Richard has even finished the thought.

Richard thanks his lucky stars he’s still in costume, and the prosthetics cover his face, because he can feel it flaming. He doesn’t know when he transformed into a teenage girl, but he prays for it to stop _right now_. He feels like the whole table can look at them and see the events of the previous night – he feels as though he has it written upon his face, as clear as day.

He has never dated anyone he’s worked with before, and now he knows why. Relationships are usually a private and intimate thing. He’s never felt so uncomfortable; he envies Lee his composure.

“Yes, I borrowed it,” Lee replies plainly, and the meaning is clear.

Everyone on the table is silent now, utensils abandoned, as they turn to look at them. Graham’s eyebrows are travelling further up his forehead and Richard finds he cannot quite meet his accusing gaze. He regards Graham as his best friend among the group, and wonders whether he has broken some sort of code by not mentioning his growing relationship (?) with Lee. There had been teasing certainly, and Graham had pressed him about they’re not entirely subtle ‘flirting’ – but Richard had always denied any involvement. He had not been lying. Then.

“Lee, are you doing the walk of shame?” Aiden exclaims, with a laugh.

Lee flushes, but makes no move to deny it, only flashes Aiden a not-so-secretive wink. The rest of the table catcalls and jostles them in response.

Richard is pretty sure he’s going to be stuck to his costume he’s so covered in sweat. He’s going to have a stroke.

“So are you together now?” Graham asks, with about as much tact as they have come to expect.

Lee, surprisingly, says nothing – looking as though he wishes to answer but is uncertain of the response. He looks to Richard, waiting, and somehow Richard senses that his answer is important.

Attempting not to wilt under the table’s expectant gaze, he grips Lee’s hand with his own, and concedes, “Yes, we’re together.”

The boom of congratulations sends him reeling backwards in surprise. He hears vague calls of, “It’s about time!” and, “That means I’ve won the bet!” in the din. Lee turns to him, and beams – the motion crinkling his eyes and dimpling his cheeks.

Richard feels a twist of satisfaction in his chest, because when Lee looks at him like that, the embarrassment is definitely worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> What have I done?? Welp.


End file.
